


Drink An Extra Beer For Me

by Fuckedupbabe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Major character death - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 07:10:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3110720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuckedupbabe/pseuds/Fuckedupbabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam, Dean, and reader go on a hunt that quickly goes down hill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drink An Extra Beer For Me

A simple hunt. A simple hunt where you would gank those demons and be on your way. That’s what it was supposed to be. But things didn’t go as expected when you found yourself alone on the first floor of the abandoned mental facility, fighting off three demons on your own. You had managed to take them, once Sam and Dean rushed down the stairs and helped take those demons out.  
You were just sharing a couple of jokes. Laughing between yourselves about how they just saved your ass and you owed them a few rounds of beer. You were just reveling in your success when the look on Sam and Dean’s faces changed instantaneously. They sprung into action, attempting to behead this stray demon that had just turned the corner. Only, the demon got to you first. You spun halfway around before you felt a searing hot pain in your back. Everything happened in slow motion. You let out a loud cry and felt your legs give in. You began falling to the floor, watching Dean rabidly stabbing the demon to death. As Dean pushed the monster away from your collapsing frame, you felt another surge of unbearable pain as you realized that the pain you felt was from the demon. He somehow managed to drive his arm right through your abdomen, ripping open a giant hole in your back. Your stomach took less damage, but still had a decently sized mark from where the demons hand went.  
You lay on your back, utter shock written all over your face. You looked down to your stomach and witnessed the damage that was caused. You lifted your hands to cover the wound, but were greeted with an unbelievably horrid feeling. Your stomach hurt, but your back was on fire. As much as you wanted to flip onto your stomach to lessen the pain in your back, you couldn’t. You didn’t have the strength. Blood was spurting from your mouth and your breaths were short, ragged, and painful.  
It was then that you realized that Sam and Dean were still by your side, yelling your name. You forced the ringing in your ears to stop and listened to the two. You looked between the two brothers, each kneeling on either of your sides.  
“Oh God. (y/n),” Dean spoke up. “We’ll get you out of here, okay? We’ll get you to the hospital and fix you up and then we’ll go out and you’ll buy us those beers you owe us, eh?” He chuckled to himself, despite the fear and panic eating at his insides; despite the fact that deep down, he knew how this would end. But he couldn’t let it finish this way. He couldn’t admit to himself that you would be gone.  
You knew, too. You knew just as well as the two Winchesters that there was no way that you would be sticking around long enough to see another day. Realization dawned on you as tears sprung to your eyes. You laid your head back on the ground and closed your eyes, hoping that sooner or later, the pain would end; hoping that you would be able to walk out of here and not leave Sam and Dean.  
“Hey, hey. (y/n), none of that, okay? No giving up,” Sam implored. Looking for any sign of life within you. “Open your eyes. Look at me, okay?” You used up nearly all of your effort opening your eyes, as you slowly, and then altogether, felt the pain dissipate from your body. Your contorted face relaxed.  
“Guys, I really don’t want to die in a loony bin,” you said before chuckling. “It’s not really how I pictured myself going.”  
“You’re not going to die, alright? Dean and I are going to get you to the nearest hospital. You’ll be fine.” Sam gently lifted you bridal style, and the pain that once numbed itself came springing into action again. Your yells were heart wrenching, but not quite like that of the trail of blood you were leaving behind. Just as Dean opened the door for Sam to put you into the Impala, you stopped him.  
“No. I can’t. I’ll get Baby dirty. Just lay me on the floor. I’m not going to get your car stained if I’m not even going to live to remember it.”  
“Stop saying that,” Dean yelled. “You’re not dying. Not like this.”  
“But I am, Dean. And you know it just as well as I do.”  
“(y/n),” Sam spoke up. “If you’re not going to make it, at least let us put you in the Impala. You love this place. You’ve said it yourself. If you’re not going to survive, then at least go in your favorite place, okay?” His tone was gentle and his words brought tears to your eyes again. You nodded.  
Sam placed you in the backseat and Dean went to the front. “Dean, no.” He froze. It was getting difficult for you to talk, now. You knew you didn’t have much longer. “Stay. Please.” Your voice cracked and the look on the two brothers faces were pained. It hurt you just to look at them. But you did. You wanted those faces engraved in your mind for when you left them. You wanted to always remember the faces of the two people that meant the most to you, the two people that always had your back when nobody else did, the two people that you could truly be yourself around, the two people you loved.  
The older sibling stood for a moment, contemplating, before he walked around to the other side of his car and slid in. Your head was on Sam’s lap and he was stroking your hair, helping you to relax before you fell into an eternal slumber. You struggled to reach your hand out, but managed, and Dean grabbed hold of it. Sam followed suit, grabbing your other hand when you reached backwards for him.  
“Just do me a favor and drink an extra beer for me,” you began with a smirk on your face. “If I can’t buy you one like I’m supposed to, then just make sure to drink an extra one for me.” No response. What were they to say? They had no proper reply to such a request. They just went on caring for you and hoping for the best.  
Sam continued stroking your hair, and Dean never stopped humming your favorite song. They kept you company until you breathed your very last breath. Your chest slowly began expanding, only you were having trouble, and you began heaving; until eventually, you breathed out your last breath, and your eyes glazed over. Sam’s eyes filled with tears. He felt your hand go limp in his and he gently moved down to kiss your forehead. The tears were falling freely, and his breath was erratic, as he felt he was now, as well.  
Dean squeezed your hand after he felt your muscles let go. He hoped that you would squeeze back. He hoped that you would give him some sort of sign that signaled that you were still alive, still hanging on despite the look on your face. When he got no response, he stepped out of the car. Sam stayed crying over your now dead body while Dean took a few breaths of air.  
He became furious. Hitting and kicking whatever was in sight. He destroyed everything in his path. Sam gently rested your head on the seat of his big brothers car and went to his brother, hot liquid still rolling down his cheeks. He pulled Dean into a hug, both of them now crying. Moments later, they let go and silently walked back to the car, knowing that they would have to face your body sooner or later.  
The moment they entered that car, the smell of rust and death immediately filled their nostrils. The drive home seemed endless. But when they finally arrived back at the bunker, they gave you a proper hunters funeral and drank plenty of whiskey. They did their best to drown out the memory of seeing you as you were. They tried hard to get the putrid smell out of their noses, but they knew that it would always linger, reminding them of what they had just witnessed. They drank themselves to sleep, hoping to wake up the next morning and find that this was all some twisted nightmare. They drank to cope with the pain of losing you. Whiskey never let them down when it came to this subject matter. They drank bottle after bottle of the golden alcohol, but they dared not touch the beer.


End file.
